The poem is still in draft form so don't be too critical!
Love this Place
Am I to love this place,
no bridges arch
over a glittering city.
No gargoyles keep watch.
To love this place
where steel mills lay fallow,
hunks of metal shade
gutted homes.
Past the Michigan Avenue
Baptist Church,
my mother and father
enter home on their wedding day,
She dreams of white
And thresholds
to be carried across.
Love this place,
drip drop of ice
slides off eaves,
like so many promises.
Homecoming on April 1...is that an omen? Maybe more like stranger in a familiar land.
ReplyDeleteI feel the same way. stuck in a homely place with good people. what's it about?
ReplyDeleteSort of familiar. I grew up in Varysburg so visiting Buffalo in the 60's meant going to the city. I did go to school here- but one year I spent abroad so 3 years, then I went to New York, came back a year or two and that was about it. But I do consider it home. Homely I'm not sure about. I agree with you Trudy. The poem came out of feeling stuck.
ReplyDelete